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Mary-Beth leaned into Caleb just a little, a gentle point of grounding in the midst of unraveling nerves. Caleb let himself rest against her for a moment, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of the camp around him, the murmurs of uneasy voices, the creak of shifting wagons, the soft plucking of Javier's guitar battling the tension in the air.
The peace wasn't broken.
It was fractured.
And everyone knew it.
Night deepened.
The camp slowly settled. Javier's guitar faded. The crackle of the fire grew softer as people drifted toward their bedrolls, still glancing uneasily at Dutch, who sat alone by the riverside, unmoving, staring at the dark water like it held a prophecy only he could hear.
Caleb didn't like it.
None of them did.
But they couldn't confront him again, not tonight.
Mary-Beth lingered beside Caleb, her shoulder brushing his, her warmth steady against the cold creeping in from the river.
"You should rest," she whispered. "Today was… a lot."
"You too."
She hesitated, then touched his hand. "I'll sleep better if I know you're alright."
Caleb smiled at that. "I'm alright."
It wasn't fully true.
But enough for now.
She kissed his cheek, soft and brief, then stood and headed to the girls' tent, glancing over her shoulder once before disappearing inside.
Caleb watched the flap fall closed.
Then he sighed, long and slow.
John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Get some sleep, kid."
Charles nodded. "We talk more in the morning. Things'll be clearer with rested minds."
Sadie cracked a half-smile. "And if Dutch tries anythin', yell loud. I'll be up."
Caleb huffed a small laugh. "Thanks."
They split off toward their tents, leaving Caleb sitting alone by the fire long enough for the embers to dim. Only when the cold crept deep into his bones did he finally force himself up and head for his bedroll.
He slept lightly.
Uneasily.
He dreamed of shadows, of Dutch's accusing stare, of the Pinkertons in the marsh, of Mary-Beth's hand slipping away into the dark.
He woke twice, heart pounding.
But morning came.
As it always does.
Dawn seeped through the trees in pale streaks of silver and gold. Birds began chirping. The river murmured softly nearby. A thin mist coated the ground, curling around boots and wagon wheels like the valley itself was exhaling.
The camp rose slowly, quietly, everyone tired, everyone wary.
But there was no time to dwell.
Roanoke Valley awaited.
Mary-Beth greeted Caleb with a small smile as she handed him a tin of warm coffee. He thanked her and drank deeply, letting the heat cut through the leftover unease.
Caleb let the warmth of the coffee settle in his chest as he stood beside Mary-Beth, the mist rolling lazily around their boots. The rest of camp was beginning to stir, Pearson banging pans, Abigail brushing the dirt off Jack's shirt, Strauss complaining to no one about damp ledgers, but their little corner of camp felt quieter, calmer. Maybe even safe… for the moment.
Mary-Beth glanced at him, curious from the moment she handed him the tin, and he finally met her eyes.
"I was thinking," Caleb said softly, "about heading out for a while."
Her brows shot up, the movement quick and unguarded. "Leaving camp?" she whispered. "Already?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Just for a few days."
She stepped closer, her voice gentler. "Why?"
Caleb stared into his coffee for a moment before answering. "I have to check on my restaurant business in Valentine. It's been a while, and with everything happening, I don't want anything going wrong there. And… I need to take a look around Saint Denis too. See if there's any sign the Pinkertons are preparing something."
Mary-Beth blinked in surprise. "Because the ambush on us failed."
"Exactly." Caleb sighed. "They'll be regrouping, planning something new. I want to know what it is before it hits us."
For a moment, Mary-Beth didn't speak. Then she let out a tiny breath through her nose, a small, wistful smile lifting her lips.
"I… forgot you had that business in Valentine," she said quietly. "Now I want to go eat those burgers and fries again."
As soon as she said it, her stomach gave a low, traitorous grumble.
Her cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, hush," she muttered at her own belly.
Caleb couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of him. He reached out with his free hand and gently rubbed the top of her head, messing up a few of her curls.
"When I get back," he promised, "I'll bring some. Enough for you, maybe even the whole camp. And honestly… I've been planning to tell the others about the business. Really tell them. That it's legal. That it makes good money. That it might be the key for all of us to leave this outlaw life behind."
Mary-Beth stared at him, eyes going wide, breath catching. "Wait, Caleb. Are you saying this business could actually pay the bounties off? All of them?"
He nodded slowly. "Maybe not fast, but yeah. If we were smart about it. We could buy time. Push the government off our backs. Start fresh. Properly."
"That's…" she shook her head, disbelief shimmering in her voice. "That's incredible."
Caleb shrugged, suddenly feeling a little younger than he was. "It's why I've been hiding it. I want to reveal it right. The perfect time. And… technically… yeah, I've been lying by omission."
Mary-Beth didn't hesitate.
She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it with warm, steady fingers. "Whenever you decide to tell them," she whispered, "I'll be right there with you. After all… you showed it to me first. Guess that makes me your accomplice."
He felt it then, a warmth deeper than the coffee, something that settled behind his ribs like a promise.
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Then I'll tell them tomorrow morning. The sooner I go check on everything, the sooner my heart stops worrying."
She smiled softly at him. "Then tomorrow it is."
Before either of them could say another word, Hosea's voice rang across the camp.
"Caleb! Son, get over here a minute!"
Caleb squeezed Mary-Beth's hand once more before letting go. She gave him an encouraging nod, then turned to help Tilly with breakfast preparations as Caleb crossed camp.
Hosea stood with Arthur, John, and Charles, arms folded, eyes sharp but tired, the kind of tired that wasn't from waking up early, but from carrying a camp full of tension on his shoulders.
"Good," Hosea said as Caleb approached. "You're all here."
Arthur took a sip from his tin cup. "What's goin' on, old man?"
"I want the four of you," Hosea began, "to ride out and scout the area. Make sure this place is actually safe. No settlers, no trappers, no hunters, no loners livin' in shacks. And if there are, figure out what kind they are."
Charles tilted his head. "And if they're bad?"
"Then deal with them." Hosea's voice was firm, unflinching. "Quietly."
John scratched the back of his head. "And if they're good people?"
"Then give 'em a warning," Hosea said. "Tell 'em there's a cougar. Or a big grizzly. Something that'll keep them far away from our camp."
Arthur nodded. "We'll take care of it. You just keep lookin' over Dutch while we're gone, alright?"
Hosea's expression softened with a mix of affection and grim understanding. "That's exactly what I intend to do. Don't you worry about Dutch. I'll handle him."
Arthur shot a look toward the river, where Dutch still sat unmoving. "Good. Man's liable to crack further if he's left unattended."
Hosea clapped Arthur on the arm, then dismissed them. "Keep yourselves alive out there. All four of you."
The old man walked away, most likely to keep an eye on Dutch just as Arthur asked.
Caleb turned to Arthur. "So, what's the plan? We moving as one group, or splitting?"
Arthur shook his head. "Pairs. We keep each other safe. This place ain't civilized, but it's the kind of place outlaws like to hole up in. Don't wanna run into trouble alone if we can help it."
He nodded toward Charles. "Me an' Charles will take south and west."
John groaned dramatically. "So I'm with Caleb again."
Caleb snorted. "Lucky you, huh?"
Charles let out a low chuckle.
Arthur smirked. "And you better hope you actually get the easy part this time, Marston."
John threw his hands up. "I always ask for the easy parts and never get 'em!"
"That's because you're cursed," Arthur shot back.
Caleb laughed, shaking his head. "Alright then. John and I'll head north and east. Arthur, Charles, see you back at camp."
They exchanged brief nods before splitting off toward their horses.
John mounted his with a dramatic sigh. "Here's hopin' we don't run into nothin' too nasty."
"You'll live," Caleb said, climbing onto Morgan. "Probably."
John pointed a finger at him. "I don't appreciate the 'probably' there."
Caleb smirked. "Then ride faster."
John muttered something rude under his breath, but he nudged his horse forward and the two of them rode out past the treeline.
The morning air in Roanoke Valley was cool and crisp, the distant call of birds echoing across the hills. Mist rolled over the ground in soft waves as sunlight broke through the canopy in patches. The forest felt alive in a way the Heartlands never did, quieter, wilder, older.
They rode at an easy trot, scanning for tracks, smoke trails, abandoned cabins, anything that might spell trouble.
They continued along the narrow trail, following the ridge that overlooked the firelit valley below. Birds darted overhead, and somewhere deeper in the woods, a buck crashed through brush.
Caleb scanned the ground. "Tracks here."
John dismounted. "What kind?"
Caleb crouched and brushed aside damp leaves. "Boot prints. Four different sets. Could be hunters, trappers, maybe locals."
John frowned. "Fresh?"
Caleb nodded. "Half a day old."
John blew out a long breath. "Well… let's follow 'em. If they're innocent folks, we give 'em the warning. If they ain't…"
Caleb nodded. "Let's go."
They followed the trail deeper into the forest, heading north. The prints led through thin clusters of pines, over a fallen log, and across a creek before breaking off into a clearing.
In the middle stood an old, half rotten shack.
Smoke still drifted from the collapsed chimney.
John sighed. "Oh great. Just what we needed."
Caleb tightened his grip on his revolver. "Let's check it."
They approached slowly, listening.
A dog barked once inside, sharp and warning.
Then a voice shouted, "Back off! Ain't interested in company!"
John winced. "Damn it. Hostile."
Caleb raised both hands. "We're not here to cause trouble. Just making sure the area's safe. You folks living here long?"
"No!" the voice barked back. "And we ain't stayin' either!"
John leaned in. "Real friendly."
Caleb shrugged. "At least they ain't shootin'."
After some tense back and forth, the group inside finally stepped out, a family of three, lean and travel worn, clearly spooked but not violent. They claimed they were moving on within the day, heading east toward Annesburg in search of work.
Caleb gave them the cougar warning just as Hosea instructed.
The father paled. "Cougar? Big one?"
"Mean one," Caleb said. "Comes down at night. Best not camp too close to the water."
The family packed up fast after that, hurrying along the trail and thanking them from a distance.
John rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… that could've gone worse."
"Much worse," Caleb agreed.
They mounted up again and continued northeast, riding through thicker stretches of forest where the ground grew uneven and moss covered stones jutted out like teeth.
Hours passed.
Then they found something else.
A small campfire, long dead but still warm.
Three horses' worth of tracks.
Two different brands of cigarettes.
And a shotgun shell.
John crouched beside the camp and muttered, "These ain't hunters."
Caleb examined the tracks. "Three men. Armed. Moved east."
"Pinkertons?"
He shook his head. "No. Boots are wrong. And the horses weren't government stock."
"Then outlaws," John muttered.
Caleb nodded. "And close."
John stood up. "Well… Hosea did say deal with threats."
Caleb exhaled slowly and scanned the treeline. "East, then?"
"East."
They followed the tracks deeper into unknown territory. The woods grew much lusher. The hills less steeper. The air much warmer. Eventually, they found the outlaws, three men around a dying fire, rifles leaning against a stump, satchels full of stolen goods from some poor trader down the river.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 7/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 7/10
- Luck: 8/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 4)
- Rifle (Lvl 4)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 4)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 3)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 4)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 4)
- Poker (Lvl 4)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 3)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 3)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 3)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 2)
- Crafting (Lvl 3)
- Persuasion (Lvl 3)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl 4)
- Teaching (Lvl 2)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 10x10x10)
- Acting (Lvl 4)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,655 dollars and 10 cents
Inventory: 104,669 dollars and 72 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 64 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, & 1 Ruby
Bank: -